


The Final Cut

by ngk_is_cool



Series: Good Omens Bingo 2021 [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Ducks, Light Angst, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Self-Reflection, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), aziraphale loves karaoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29758311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ngk_is_cool/pseuds/ngk_is_cool
Summary: The world is coming to an end, and Crowley can’t find the needed courage to confess his love to Aziraphale.A lot of introspection, few ducks, little plot and hopefully happy end.Or: 3 times Crowley thought their relationship was over, and one times he realized it's not.Written for the Good Omens Bingo fill "museum", the second chapter is "Flame", the third chapter is "Apoca-didn't".
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Bingo 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154867
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021





	1. The Museum of Broken Relationships

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn’t planning on angst, and definitely not another love story between Crowely and Aziraphale. Then Google found the Museum of Broken Relationships, and once the idea struck, he would not leave.
> 
> The title and some bad quotes are, of course, from Pink Floyd's brilliant album.
> 
> CW -the PTSD tag is only for chapter 3, for brief mention of Crowley's behavior.

** Empty bottle of wine, 2008

Well, TECHNICALLY, this relationship never started, so can't be broken, and I should probably not post here, in the Museum of Broken Relationships. But I never listened to "should be", being who I am, and now is definitely not the time to start, with the world coming to an end in 11 years and all that.

This bottle is from the day we got The News. About the end of the world, that is. Not that I will ever tell him the other news – that I have been madly in love with him since creation, from the first moment I have seen him. I was alone and terrified, just made a notorious mistake, and he saw me for what I am, and still sheltered me under his wing. What was I supposed to do, aside from falling in love with a literal angel?

Anyway, the point is, we got some BAD news, and I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth. He would have listened with attention, as usual, his face all loving and radiating and all that, and after I would have finished my confession he would have say something like: "oh, my dear boy, that is just flabbergasting", and he would have done this little dance with his hands that he does whenever he is rattled, and I would have said something frivolous and we would both pretend it never happened.

As the hours passed and the bottles emptied, I tried to make a leap of faith, before everything would go pear shaped. But, again, being me, I never had the nerve to make the final cut, and an empty bottle is all that was left from that night.

**Empty bread bag, 2013

This is a bag of bread for the ducks in St. James Park. Apparently, bread is not good for ducks, and they should eat peas, from all the things in the world, but try telling that to them. It will be easier to lure the antichrist from not destroying the world, than to convince the local flock to abandon the black bread of the Russian attaché.

We went there last week, talking as usual about everything and anything, plotting how to stop the end of the world, which adaptation of Shakespeare was the best. All those years have passed, and he still does not seem to understand how I feel. How can a creature of love be so oblivious? 

Sometimes, when he looks at me with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, or an expectant face, I dare to hope. Maybe he does understand me, maybe he even feels the same, but is too afraid to show it? He cares about me, that is for sure. Will he lie to me, if he thinks that will protect me from the wrath of hell? perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

The bag remained full, not sure whether he or I had caused it. I promised myself that when all the bread had been given out to the ducks, I would tell him about my feelings. We lingered there together until finally the bag was empty, and night had fallen. It was a beautiful, full moon hanging over our head. He looked at me one last time before saying goodbye, clearly waiting for something. 

But, being a demon, promises are something I'm exceptionally good at breaking, and this time was no different. Once again, the dream of a space between the heavens, where we could speak out loud about our doubts and fears, faded away and I got left with an empty bag.


	2. White mug with wings, 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bookstore is burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about Crowley in the burning bookstore. A great deal of hurt and feelings, nothing graphic.
> 
> Written for the Good Omens Bingo fill "flame".

The bookstore burned down to the ground and Aziraphale is gone for good. What's even the point of writing to the museum collection, when soon the world will end? Anyway, here is a mug, a white one with wings, obviously. That, and an old book, is all I got left from my best friend.

I gave him that mug, Satan knows how long ago. Saw it in one of those Red Cross shops, you know the kind. With a window full of knick-knacks and oddities, tucked between a unicorn doll and a crate full of wigs in all the colors of the rainbow, and a few more.

The look on Aziraphale's face when he saw it was adorable, added immediately to the library of "happy smiles for something I have done right", which is a completely different memory library then "happy smiles for something bad I have done that he secretly approves". And every time he drank from that mug, his lips touching where my hand had been… That's a different library altogether, and even a demon has a right to some privacy.

He wanted to talk to me, and of course I came. There was no place else I would rather be, or any wish I would be able to deny him.

First, the smoke. Then, The flames. The sky was red and heavy with smoke, and for a second it seemed Armageddon had already started. As the Bentley got closer, I realized that maybe that was not the Armageddon heaven and hell were aiming for, but my own one. That was not spooky, me being a big fan of. That was The End, not nigh anymore but very close to that.

The flames were already high as a result of the bookstore's stock of, well, books. Fire fighters stood by, watching helplessly as the bookstore burned. The only place on earth that was safe for me, with the only person that made me feel like that trapped inside, flames licking the roof's building, miraculously not spreading in the surrounding area.

Being a demon has its perks, from time to time. One of them is not being afraid of fire, especially not the kind that humans use. I ran into the bookshop, trying to save my best friend, but it was too late. The place was ablaze, and I just couldn't find him.

Cursing hell, heaven, and everything in between, and even the ineffable plan didn't make things better. The flames roared as I kept searching, shelves crushing around me, but eventually it was the jet of water which made me realize that all hope was lost.

Just as I was about to leave, the wind blew the smoke away, revealing the mug hidden beneath the ash. If that is God's way to show that she has a sense of humor, it's not working for me.

Now, sitting at a bar with the appropriate name "The Enterprise", the mug and the book from the crazy American girl are all that I have left. Drinking myself into oblivion was never, literally, that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the happy end they deserve, I promise!


	3. Scorched Sunglasses, 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The promised and much deserved happy-ever-after.
> 
> Written for the Good Omens Bingo fill "Apoca-didn’t".

I really should not have published this to the Museum of Broken Relationships, after what happened. Our friendship was broken almost to the point that it could not be repaired, but we took the long way home, and finally we are on our side. 

Anyway, following the rules has never been my forte, and I see no reason to change that now. If it’s good enough for an angel, it should be good enough for a museum. 

These sunglasses were found, miraculously, almost not melted in the bookstore after the Apoca-didn’t. Adam did a great job with restoring reality, which makes me wonder why he left them like that. Perhaps it was a reminder for what nearly happened, a gentle push towards a much needed change? If that was his plan, it certainly worked. 

It took us some time, but after the Apoca-didn’t, we finally talked about things. It doesn’t matter who started the conversation (even though Aziraphale will never let me live down the fact that, at the end, he was the one who sped things up). The most important thing is that eventually, after too long, we managed to do that. 

We moved away from London, beginning a new chapter in our long lives. A small cottage in the South Downs, by the coast, a home to share our hopes and dreams, and also our insecurities. Apparently, we both have them abundantly, mostly the latter. 

Aziraphale had finally adjusted to the idea of sleeping, now that we are no longer in constant fear from our correspondents' sides. He also learned the bliss of waking up after a good nap, and I achieved what I thought would be impossible: to wake up next to him, entwined in each other. Without the need to pretend to open the bookstore, there is little reason to leave the bed, and sometimes we don't, at least until noon.

In those moments, saving the world almost seems worthwhile. Who would have known that my favorite activity would be sprawling in bed, a soft angel as a pillow, with the said angel brushing my hair while reading?

In other times, the quiet night is shattered by muffled cries or choked moans. Then, the sprawling turns into ana, with soothing strokes on the back. Even demons, it turns out, need to learn how to make peace with their internal demons. 

Most of the days are peaceful, and the weeks pass slowly. We have a lush garden, with enough herbs to prepare tea for the entire village, and the obligatory study room with an enormous library. Sometimes we even invite some of the neighbours, events that seem to occur more and more nowadays, after Aziraphale discovered the technology of karaoke and have an opportunity to practice his celestial voice. 

On other times, kids from the area come to the garden, to play hide and seek between the trees. And if they sometimes come across a massive black and red snake, that is just a coincidence.But where else will the kids of today learn that not all snakes are not dangerous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a ride, let me know what you think :)
> 
> The next chapters will be about cat!Crowley, Pepper, and other surprises.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me in the comments what you think!  
> The museum is a real thing, check [ the website](https://brokenships.com/)


End file.
